


Joseph Liebgott and his Bakery

by LyricalCord



Series: Band of Brothers AUs [1]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bakery, M/M, Out of Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 13:47:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4879186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyricalCord/pseuds/LyricalCord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>See, there’s this guy that comes in every other day of the week – Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. He buys himself a cup of coffee, medium roast with two spoonfuls of sugar and dollop of caramel creamer to sweeten it with. He sits at the small café table next to the bay window and drinks his coffee, deft fingers curled around the to go cup. He carries a small pocket book that is always within reach and when a thought strikes him, whatever it may be, the man pulls it out and jots it down, tongue poking out between thin pink lips. </p>
<p>And dammit, if this stranger doesn’t have the bluest eyes that Joe has ever seen. </p>
<p>Blue eyes that search for answers when Joe hands him a shortbread cookie with his coffee one morning, confusion flitting across his face before it settles on a thankful smile. His eyes bore into Joe’s soul, bright cornflower blue alight with childlike curiosity. They crinkle at the corners when he smiles – God he smiles every day at Joe when he hands him his coffee – and his voice when he thanks Joe is soft and gentle, sincerity ingrained in his tone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Joseph Liebgott and his Bakery

**Author's Note:**

> Joe is a little out of character but it isn't extremely terrible in my opinion

Joseph Liebgott owns a bakery. Okay, well, he co-owns a bakery with his best friend, Skinny Sisk. The bakery belonged to his parents but when they got sick, they sold the bakery to Joe and Skinny for a pretty penny. They would make tons of different cookies and small cakes, even sold a generous amount of coffee to the cops who came in for donuts in the morning. The bakery’s small, tucked between a multi-purpose store and some ridiculous antique shop. Business is good during the week, mainly in the mornings and the late afternoons when people were going to or leaving work. Joe takes pride in his work, pouring every ounce of his being into the confectioneries that he bakes regularly. Skinny helps frost and pack the cupcakes, working quietly next to Joe. It still surprises people when they learn that Joe and Skinny are best friends, not understanding how the brash Joe Liebgott was so close to the stoic Skinny Sisk.

Originally, before he was the owner, Joe was busy cutting hair at the local barber shop, paying rent and buying his own groceries for once. He even managed to drag his ass to chapel every Sunday. No matter how tired he was, he always ended up going. His mother found it odd that he went without having to be dragged forcefully there by her. He would laugh and brush it off, explaining that if he didn’t go to chapel, the sweets he made on Monday wouldn’t taste as good.

Joe gave great haircuts. He had a few regulars – a young woman and her talkative four year old girl, an older broad with thinning hair, and a middle aged man whose receding hair line got worse and worse every time Joe saw him. He loved to cut hair. Loved to cut his own, even cut Skinny’s on the rare occasions that he let him. His family got free haircuts when Joe managed to visit, juggling not only his first real job – outside of working for his parents when he was in his teens – but his life as a young adult.

He likes to party and drink and spend time with his friends when they visit the clubs on Friday nights. He vaguely remembers drunkenly kissing Grant one night and the scolding that followed the morning after. They laugh about it now, making jokes about Joe and his questionable sexuality.

But to Joe, it wasn’t questionable. He likes what he likes. Sometimes girls were what he wanted for his nightly company and sometimes guys were what he wanted. He prefers men though. Always has. He only ever wants one night stands. He’s had one real relationship which was back in high school with one of the prettiest girls there. It ended so badly that Joe can’t see himself ever wanting to be with another person longer than a single night. Relationships are too complicated. Feelings are too distracting. He doesn’t need to be worrying about another person. He’s got a job to do, responsibilities that are top priority.   

Except, now he isn’t entirely sure about how true these previous assumptions are.

See, there’s this guy that comes in every other day of the week – Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. He buys himself a cup of coffee, medium roast with two spoonfuls of sugar and dollop of caramel creamer to sweeten it with. He sits at the small café table next to the bay window and drinks his coffee, deft fingers curled around the to go cup. He carries a small pocket book that is always within reach and when a thought strikes him, whatever it may be, the man pulls it out and jots it down, tongue poking out between thin pink lips.

And dammit, if this stranger doesn’t have the bluest eyes that Joe has ever seen.

Blue eyes that search for answers when Joe hands him a shortbread cookie with his coffee one morning, confusion flitting across his face before it settles on a thankful smile. His eyes bore into Joe’s soul, bright cornflower blue alight with childlike curiosity. They crinkle at the corners when he smiles – God he smiles every day at Joe when he hands him his coffee – and his voice when he thanks Joe is soft and gentle, sincerity ingrained in his tone.

Skinny and Grant tease him about the mystery man.

 Joe jerks off to the memory of his voice.

Over the course of three months, the man comes in and out of the bakery, buying coffee and sitting at the café table for an hour, writing silently. He has stopped drawing the book out every time he gets an idea. He just writes. He never stays past an hour, seemingly always knowing when his time is up. He tucks his book away, says goodbye to Joe and asks him to tell Skinny goodbye as well before bustling out the door.

When November rolls around, the man has been coming to Joe and Skinny’s bakery for seven months. He wears a thin scarf around his neck now accompanied by an equally thin jacket, instead of just his usual jeans and short sleeved shirt.

Joe still hasn’t learned his name.

He calls him ‘Blue eyes’ in his sleep.

The man rubs his hands together, popping the joints as he waits for his coffee. A red poppy is pinned to his scarf and Joe briefly remembers that it’s Veterans’ Day. He pulls out a small raspberry cupcake out of the display case, handing it to the stranger along with his coffee.

“Thanks, Joe,” the man sighs softly, leaving a more than generous tip in the jar by the register.

“You’re welcome,” He accidentally spits out – _Goddammit Joe, what the fuck,_ he thinks - the venom in his voice making the man laugh as he takes his usual seat. He didn’t mean to sound so harsh.

Today is different though. He doesn’t leave after the hour passes by. He doesn’t leave after two. He sits and sips his coffee, reading over whatever he has written in his book. Joe slips out from behind the counter during the usual mid-morning lull and comes over to sit across from the man. He glances up momentarily before closing the book, smiling gently.

“Are you worried as to why I’m not gone yet?” He asks knowingly.

“No,” Joe answers, and he really isn’t. He knows the man won’t hurt him. Not with Skinny in the kitchen. Joe could take him anyway. He would probably just need Skinny to hold him down. “Whatcha writin’ about?”

He looks down at the book and then back at Joe, “It’s my newest work, actually. I’m a writer.”

“Clearly,” he drawls, rolling his brown eyes.

“I don’t think I’ve properly introduced myself,” the man says suddenly. He scratches the back of his neck, tugging at his scarf almost nervously. His cornflower colored eyes shine where the sun hits them. “I’m David, David Webster.”

Joe can’t tell if the air leaves his body as fast as he thinks it does.

“It’s funny how I’ve been coming in here for months and I never told you my name until today,” David laughs and Joe has to pinch himself to keep from smiling at the man – no, David. His name is David.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” Joe replies. He gestures to David’s empty cup “You want another coffee, Webster?” Webster’s eyes crinkle at the corners and Joe wonder’s – briefly – if addressing the man by his last name had been a mistake. He didn’t dare speak his first name. An odd feeling had washed over him when he thought of saying it out loud.

“Sure, Joe, that would be lovely,” Webster gives him a small smile and stands. “I have to get going though so, maybe some other time?”

Joe nods stiffly, “Yeah, yeah, sure thing Webster. Another time.”

Webster leaves, without saying goodbye and Joe can’t help feeling a little betrayed by it. He throws away the coffee cup, jaw locking as he returns to the kitchen. Skinny quirks a brow at him but doesn’t say anything as Joe storms around the room, pushing dirty dishes into the large sink and filling it with hot water.

“You’re…doing the dishes?” Skinny wonders as Joe pushes his sleeves up and ducks his hands in, soap and water to his elbows.

“Jesus Christ, Skinny, they’re my goddamn dishes,” Joe snarls, temper getting the better of him. It doesn’t faze Skinny. The other rolls his eyes and leaves the kitchen, going to the front of the shop to handle whatever customers come in through the door.

Joe spends the rest of day in the kitchen. He cleans until the countertops gleam and he wonders how the hell he fell for a man with cornflower eyes and a warm hearted smile.

 

Joe and Skinny don’t see Webster for nearly three weeks. He comes back the day before they close for Thanksgiving. It’s a Tuesday. Seeing Webster makes Joe’s heart seize in his chest and though he knows why, he doesn’t let himself accept it. Instead, he hands Webster his coffee before the order even leaves his mouth. He’s hurting but he doesn’t show it. His pride wins through and he waits for Webster to pay him for the coffee.

“Thank you,” says Webster and Joe grits his teeth together. Webster stands at the counter a moment longer before remembering to pay. He hands Joe several bills and quickly leaves, his head down and coffee in his hand.

“Was that him?” Skinny asks and then he’s beside Joe, saying his name quietly and trying to pry the bills out of his grasp.

Joe snaps to attention and drops the money on the counter, tearing his apron off his body. He leaves the bakery, all but shoving past the stragglers that couldn’t get out of bed when their alarm rang. He spots Webster hurrying across the street, the wind blowing his hair back and Joe swears he can smell the man’s aftershave in the gust. He sprints across the street, barely missing the car that honks so loud his ears ring as he slams full force into Webster.

Webster catches himself against a lamp post and whirls around. “What the hell, Joe?”

“I could say the same to you! You haven’t been around for weeks,” Joe hisses, finding that he was angrier than he had originally thought.

“I had a deadline, Joe, I couldn’t just run out for a cup of coffee,” Webster sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose between his first and second fingers. “Jesus Joe, as much as I love your coffee, I have a responsibility as a writer to comply with my editor’s deadlines.”

“Then what the hell was that back there, huh Web?” Joe wraps his arms around himself. He hadn’t realized until now that he left without his sweatshirt.

Webster shakes his head, “I had something I wanted to say but I chickened out at the last minute.”

“Oh yeah?” He smirks, rising to the challenge. “You’re such a goddamn school girl, use your fucking words.”

This earns him a soft grin and Webster shakes his head again. He palms his coffee cup, blue eyes crinkled at the corners, lips parting with another sigh. “I was going to ask you if you wanted to get that cup of coffee with me.”

Joe feels his breath hitch and he swallows. He swears he sees Web’s eyes track the movement of his Adam’s apple and he flushes softly in the brisk San Francisco wind. His heart hammers against his ribs and he nods, “Yeah, yeah I’d like that.” Webster smiles at him and he shoots back a grin, grabbing the other man’s wrist. “Let’s go back to the shop, yeah?” Joe suggests, tugging gently.

“Sure thing, Joe,” Webster agrees and they walk back to the bakery, hands brushing. Webster’s deft fingers are curled around the warm cup and Joe can’t help the way his eyes fixate on them. They’re beautiful and callused on the very tips. He wonders if someone can get them from writing. He makes a mental note to ask where they came from.

Once safely back inside the shop, Joe pours himself a cup of black roast coffee that has Webster wrinkling his nose at. They sit at the bay window and talk, laughing quietly to themselves as they find common ground through literature. Joe’s more of a comic book type of guy but he still remembers the classics, which are Webster’s expertise. The blue eyed man hasn’t read a lot of comic books and frankly, Joe hasn’t read a lot of classic literature either and they both agree to teach the other about their personal favorites. Joe recommends Dick Tracy and Flash Gordon, comic books from the 1930s that he finds are more entertaining than current runs of _Batman_ and the always classic, _X-Men_.

Webster tells him about _Pride and Prejudice_ and about his love for Vonnegut. He goes into vivid explanations about the characters and storylines, using literary terms that Joe doesn’t ever recall hearing in a normal conversation. But this isn’t a normal conversation and they aren’t normal people. Webster goes so far as to tell Joe what his new book is about. He finds out that Webster only came to California to study sharks and that at the end of the next month, he would be returning home to New York where his editor is currently located. Joe suddenly can’t breathe right.

“We share an apartment, actually,” he explains, fiddling with his empty coffee cup. “We were friends in college and met through the English department. I was writing news articles on the side and he wanted to be a reporter who specialized in global tourist areas and awareness columns. Things changed and he still wants to write about tourist attractions but he became an assistant editor for the Times. Of course, I’m still writing news articles but I love sharks and the water and I thought I would just write a book about them. Classifications, information regarding their behaviors, that type of thing. Hoobler thought it was a great idea so we pitched it to a children’s publishing company and they ate it right up. I’m hoping one day Hoobs and I can travel the world so I can write about sharks and he can write about his tourist stuff. He’s currently subbing in as my editor – much to his dismay.”

He breaths out an ‘oh’ which makes Webster quirk an eyebrow at him as Joe chews on the inside of his lip. “I’m sorry, just, whoa, y’know?” He laughs, playing off his disappointment as surprise. “That’s really cool, Web. I’ve always wanted to go overseas – to Germany, mostly. My grandparents were from there and I grew up speaking both German and English so it’d be interesting to see where the Liebgott family got started.”

The grin Webster sends him makes Joe’s heart flutter. He says softly, “I didn’t know you spoke German, Joe. I took that as my language class during school. Unfortunately, I wasn’t entirely good at the oral lessons so I suppose I saved my professor from listening to my horrendous German. I have no problem writing, reading, understanding it – it was honestly just the speaking that I couldn’t connect with.”

Joe almost blurts out that speaking should’ve been the easiest thing for Webster to grasp but he doesn’t. He shrugs his shoulders. “Well German ain’t for everybody.”

“It certainly is not.”

The bell above the door jingles and Joe gets up to take the order before Skinny can return from the back room. Webster eyes him as he fills out the woman’s information on an order form, cornflower blue watching him. He shivers, despite the warmth of the bakery. He gives the woman a short smile and takes the deposit, shuffling the bills into the register and handing her the receipt with the remaining charge. She smiles and leaves, throwing a ‘thank you’ over her shoulder as the bell jingles – as if reminding them of her departure – and the door shuts behind her. Joe sighs and rubs his face tiredly, glancing over at Webster who has a bemused smile playing on his thin lips.

“What?” He snaps.

“Nothing, Joe,” Webster stands and throws their empty coffee cups away. He cleans the table of crumbs and walks over to the counter. He pulls out the familiar little notebook, pen tucked between the pages. He scrawls out something and tears the page out, handing it Joe. “Call me up sometime? We should hang out before I go back to New York.”

“You really gonna go back? Where the hell are you gonna get any good coffee?” Joe asks, smirking at Webster as he pockets the number.

This makes the man laugh, cornflower eyes shining with mirth. “I’m sure I’ll manage, Joe. Thanks again for the coffee and for letting me chew your ear off. I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Yeah, no problem Web.”

His lips tug up at the corners and he leaves the shop, the bells jingling and Joe feels his throat constrict as he goes into the kitchen, leaning against the wall. Skinny watched him quizzically, brows drawn in worry as Joe lets out a noise of frustration and bangs his hand against the wall. He slumps down, knees drawn to his chest.

“What’s wrong?” Skinny asks a few minutes later, sitting down next to Joe on the floor.

Joe sniffs, wiping the back of his hand under his nose, “Webster’s going back to New York at the end of December.”

“So? He gave you his number, didn’t he?”

“Yeah but -“

Skinny cuts him off with a groan, “But nothing Joe, jeez. Call him in the next few days and don’t you dare think about chickening out on it. I’ll know. Besides, he said he’d see you on Monday and yeah, you were a wreck the last couple of weeks but he’ll come back. And if he likes you as much as you like him, you know he’ll want to spend as much as time as he can with you before he heads back to New York.”

He huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “It ain’t just that Skinny. He’s gonna leave and then what? What am I supposed to do with myself, huh? Just sit here and rot away? Fuck no.”

“Then make him want to stay.”

“Make him want to stay in California?”

His friend nods and plays with the ties of his apron, flour covered fingertips leaving powdery dust behind as he tugs the strings loose. “You’ve got a whole month to work your charm on him, Lieb. He speaks German, don’t he? Get him to fall head over heels with your dumbass and it’ll be smooth sailing from here on out.”

“Smooth sailing isn’t exactly what happens when I’m in a relationship with someone, Skinny,” he responds and the other punches his arm.

“We did okay, didn’t we? You haven’t gotten tired of me yet, have you?”

“Guess not,” Joe smiles and Skinny returns it, settling against Joe and sighing.

The next thing Skinny says throws Joe off completely, “He really does compliment you though. Like how me and you work. Webster’s that quiet challenge that you need in your life but he could also throw everything you’ve got right back at you. It’s almost like he was made for you, Lieb.”

“Think so, Skinny?” Joe questions after a few minutes.

“Yep.”

Joe sighs and pats Skinny’s bony knee and gets up, stretching his arms over his head with a sigh. “I’ll work back here the rest of the day. We’ve only got about three hours left till the afternoon rush comes in and I’ve got a million cupcakes to make for some lady who’s coming to get them at six.”

“Okay,” Skinny wanders to the front, leaving Joe to bake and to collect his thoughts.

Joe works quickly and diligently, baking and frosting over a hundred cupcakes by himself for a woman’s early Thanksgiving celebration. Half the cupcakes are yellow cake and the other half are chocolate, both types topped with pumpkin flavored icing. Joe splits the remaining icing between himself and Skinny and they discuss their plans for their short holiday. They only ever allowed themselves 2 days off during this particular holiday, giving their families at least two days to catch up with them before they return to work for the Black Friday rush. The bakery always makes a killing.

Skinny hums as he licks his spoon clean, the orange icing sticking to his tongue. “Anyway, I’m supposed to pick Shifty up at the airport tonight and then we’ll head to the cottage. You’re welcome to join us, if you want,” Skinny offers, going for another spoonful of the pumpkin icing. Joe shrugs and tosses his spoon, the plastic making a popping sound as it hit the side of the trash. “Y’know, Webster probably doesn’t have anyone to spend the holiday with.”

The look Joe sends him makes Skinny snort. “I’m not inviting him to spend the next two days at your cabin,” Joe deadpans.

“C’mon Joe, it’ll be fun. I know you’re just gonna go back to your apartment and have yourself a pity party. You’ll probably end up eating a TV tray dinner and then when Web asks how you spent your Thanksgiving, you won’t want him to pity you so,” Skinny pauses to swallow another mouthful of icing, “You, Joseph Liebgott, will make up this disgusting story of how you ended up at a titty bar with Grant, or hell, even Talbert, which will only drive Web away from you.”

Joe cocks his jaw and sends Skinny a glare. He shakes his head, “I’m not coming to the cabin with you and Shifty. Kid fucking freaks me out. The two of you will be too busy talking about hunting and fishing and whatever wilderness things you guys bond over.”

Skinny finishes the remainder of the icing and throws it away. “I’m just trying to be nice, Joe. Webster’s nice and I’m sure he’d like the outdoors too. Seems the type considering he spent seven months of his life researching sharks in California.”

“Liking sharks and liking the outdoors is two entirely different things,” Joe points out.

His friend rolls his eyes and grabs the empty cupcake racks from the display case. “Better hope that lady gets here soon. I want to sleep a few hours before I gotta pick up Shifty.”

“I can lock up by myself, Sisk.”

Skinny doesn’t reply as he stacks leftover cupcakes and cookies into two takeaway boxes. He closes up the display case and Joe sighs softly, grabbing the takeaway boxes and doodling crude pictures on the one meant for Shifty. He signs, “To Shifty; keep him safe and enjoy the sweets – Lieb”.

The bells jingle softly and Joe glances up to see the woman returning for her cupcakes. Joe helps her load them into the car and takes the remaining charge. He tells her ‘Happy Thanksgiving’ and she responds in kind before settling into her van and driving away. Joe watches the vehicle drive down the street before sighing and going back inside. He switches the sign on the door to ‘Closed’ and starts to lower the blinds over the windows. Skinny reappears and wipes down the tables and counters down with a damp rag. They count the money from the register together, Joe first and then Skinny, who recounts it a third time to be sure.

Skinny scrawls out the amount on a sticky note and presses it down on the first bill of the stack before slipping it in the money bag, handing it to Joe with a soft smile. “I’ll see you on Friday. Is it okay if Shifty helps out around here while he’s in town?” He asks, taking off his apron.

“Yeah,” Joe replies, copying his best friend’s movements. They take their respective boxes and light jackets and then lock up the bakery. Skinny squeezes his arm in goodbye and heads up the street while Joe goes in the opposite direction.

 

 

Unfortunately, Skinny had been right. Joe did end up at a titty bar on Thursday night, accompanied by _both_ Grant and Talbert who had absolutely nothing better than to wave dollar bills at the strippers. Joe had nothing better to do either and he ended up tossing a fifty at a girl who had this giant rack and a head of bouncing brown curls for hair. He sipped lazily from his margarita, feeling guilty that he had even come to the stupid place.

The worst part is that he doesn’t even get laid that night.

He goes home to an empty apartment, several missed messages on his land line, and a box full of leftover desserts.

He crawls into bed with the box of desserts and a glass of milk and binge watches the _Orange is the New Black_ on Netlflix.

He never calls Webster.

 

 

Monday comes too soon and Joe accidentally misses the communion service in the morning. He doesn’t even have the strength to care. With Webster’s impending departure, Joe’s mind is working nonstop, making up ideas and date nights that will most likely never happen because Joe is, for lack of better terms, scared of his own goddamn feelings.

When the door opens on Monday, the bells jingle and Joe’s too focused on the cake order he’s putting together to even look up and greet the new customer. He hums as the man rattles off what he wants on his daughter’s cake. ‘It’s her sixteenth birthday, gotta make it special, y’know?’ the man tells him and Joe nods as he sketches out a three tier cake on a sketchpad.

He flips the pad around for the man to look and has enough time to see Webster walking back towards the door to open it for a woman who’s juggling her tablet and purse whilst attempting to open the door. Joe’s lips quirk up and Webster catches his eye. Both their cheeks flush a soft pink and Joe has to turn his gaze away when the man confirms that he likes Joe’s sketch. He takes the down payment and gets the man’s phone number to call when the cake is finished.

Joe quickly helps the woman who struggled to open the door and then finally Webster stands at the counter, his wallet in his hand. He grasps Joe’s sleeve before he can start on Webster’s usual and he quirks his brow up at him.

“Instead of putting the caramel in there, will you add milk?” He requests.

“Sure Web, whatever you want.”

Webster rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet like a child and Joe snorts into his sleeve as he finishes making the man’s coffee. He also sets out a new cupcake, white cake with lemon filling and fluffy yellow-tinted buttercream icing. Webster pays for both and motions for Joe to follow him to his usual spot at the bay window.

He quickly discards his apron and slips into the seat across from Webster who smiles kindly at him. His breath catches in his throat and he clears it, smirking deviously at his friend. Was Webster his friend? Fuck if Joe knew. “To what do I owe the pleasure, writer boy?” He questions.

“I wanted to talk,” He sighs and gulps down a mouthful of coffee, “Hoob wants me back by Friday. We have a lot of stuff to go over regarding the book and the publishing company wants it out by the spring so we’ll have to hurry and decide on dedications, the artwork, and of course the cover of the book.” Webster pushes his hair back and Joe finds himself curling his hands together into fists on his knees. His nails bite into his palms as Webster continues speaking.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear this but I’m getting on the last flight that leaves California for New York. My bags are packed already and fuck, Joe,” He grips the cup tightly and the Styrofoam crinkles a little. “I like you. And it was so stupid of me giving you my number and then just, expecting you to call. I should’ve just taken you out to dinner or something.”

“You’re leaving,” Joe whispers.

Webster nods, “Tonight.”

“You can’t,” Joe snarls. “You can’t leave yet. I’ve hardly gotten the chance to get to know you, Web, why can’t you just stay in town for a few more days?”

“It’s not as simple as it sounds, Joe. I’ve got bills to pay, meetings to arrange with the publishing company. Hoobler needs me to be there to sign the forms. I can’t just give him my power of attorney; that would be stupid! It’s not like I want to leave. Don’t you think I want to get to know you too?”

Joe barks out a laugh, crossing his arms over his chest, “Yeah, yeah, sure. Like anyone ever wants to get to know me. You wanna know how fucking long it took for me and Skinny to even get where we’re at now? And he’s my best friend.” He can feel himself getting defensive and angry. Webster can’t leave now, he just can’t. He bites the inside of his cheek, brows drawn tight as he glares at Webster. The other man returns the look but his is less harsh and more pleading. Joe tears his eyes away and kicks lazily at Webster’s converse covered foot. “You can’t fucking leave, Web.” _You can’t leave me._

“Why do you call me that?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Just answer the damn question.”

He huffs and keeps knocking his foot against Webster’s. He can feel Skinny watching them from the counter, not saying a word just dutifully taking and fulfilling customer orders. Shifty is in the back washing dishes. “Because,” Joe starts and then feels his throat constrict. He closes his eyes and breathes in deep through his nose and says, “Because your name, it translates from Hebrew into English and means ‘beloved’.”

“Oh,” Webster murmurs and stares at his coffee cup. He slides it towards Joe and stands up, brushing invisible crumbs off his shirt. Joe’s eyes snap open and he fixes Webster with a confused look as the taller male shoves his hands into his pockets, fingering loose change. “I get it now.”

“Get what?” Joe mumbles.

“Because if you called me by my first name, it would feel like you were calling me your beloved, right?” Webster glances down at him.

“Somebody get the guy a trophy, he’s figured it out,” Skinny laughs from the counter and Joe sends him a harsh glare. Webster blushes softly when Skinny says, “Joe nearly lost it when you were busy writing your book and not here buying his coffee.”

“That’s enough Skinny,” Joe warns but the other man has Webster’s full attention as he goes into vivid detail about how upset Joe would get whenever Webster didn’t come in. This made Webster laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners like they always did and Joe could hear his heart pounding in his ears.

Webster turns back to Joe and smiles, “Well at least I know that our feelings are mutual.”

“Fuck you,” he sneers but it lacks its usual bite and Webster doesn’t seem bothered by it. Joe pushes his hair out of his face and stands up, brushing past Webster and heading for the counter. “Here.” He handed him the bakery’s business card, “For when you get back to New York. That way we can keep in touch or whatever.”

“Don’t fall in love while I’m gone, Joe,” Webster chides as he grabs his coffee and cupcake. He takes bite out of it and hums. “Not your best. The lemon is a bit strong for my taste but then again, I’ve always preferred raspberry.” He smiles and winks. Skinny makes a gagging sound and Joe shoves Webster playfully. He sets his coffee and cupcake down on the counter. “Thank you so much Joe. For everything. The coffee, the sweets, the company, I can’t wait to come back here.”

“I still don’t want you to leave,” Joe mutters which earns him a shrug as a reply. “But I guess not having to see your ugly mug in the bakery might bring in some new customers.”

“Oh, _right_ , because I’m the one scaring them off with my _mug_ ,” Webster laughs and sighs, eyes locked with Joe’s. “I’ll see you soon, Joe. Take care of him Skinny.”

“Enjoy your plane ride back home, Webster,” Skinny replies and slinks into the back room.

Webster swallows and Joe tracks the movement with his eyes. They step towards each other at the same time and Webster lets out a nervous laugh. Joe grabs the front of his shirt, fingers curled in the soft fabric. “Don’t fall in love either, Webster,” he whispers and the man with the cornflower blue eyes nods, leaning down to peck Joe’s lips.

Joe pulls back and takes a deep breath before kissing Webster again, fingers sliding up to curl around the back of his neck. He sighs against his lips and the other hums in response. Webster places a searing kiss on the corner of his lips and gathers Joe in his arms, burying his face in his shoulder.

“I’ll call you soon, Joe,” Webster says against his shoulder and pulls back, fixing his shirt and smoothing his hands through his hair. “When I land or maybe when I get back to my apartment but I will call. I promise Joe.”

“Hey, I’m sorry about not calling you.”

Webster shrugs and presses another kiss to the corner of Joe’s lips. “Goodbye Joe,” he says against his mouth and finally pulls away, heading for the door, coffee and cupcake in hand. He’s halfway out the door when Joe grabs his arm.

“It’s Lieb,” Joe gasps out, “You don’t have to call me Joe all the time. You can call me Lieb.”

Webster’s face breaks into a smile and he nods, “Sure thing, Lieb.”

Joe pulls his hand back and chews the inside of his lip as Webster smiles at him. His lips quirk up and Webster turns away, walking across the street and disappearing in a small throng of people. Joe lets the door swing shut as he walks back into the bakery. He slips apron on and takes his place behind the counter, ready to get back to work and dispel any thoughts of Webster that come to mind.

 

Joe gets a call the next morning from Webster. They talk quietly, the glow of the early morning sun casting an orange hue throughout his bedroom. Joe yawns into the phone and Webster tells him to go back to bed and that he’ll call him later. He mumbles a sleepy ‘g’bye’ and hangs up, barely catching Webster’s response. He thinks he hears him call him Lieb and it sends a shiver down his spine.

 

They talk on and off for several months. They even made a schedule so that Webster doesn’t call Joe when it’s five in the morning in California and Joe doesn’t call Webster after midnight in New York. It becomes an easy pattern and the idea of seeing Webster again in a few months when he’s on tour lights a fire under Joe. He starts eating better, exercises more and remembers to always go to chapel on Sundays. He visits his mom and tells her about Webster and spends more time with Grant and Talbert, this time outside of titty bars. He and Skinny take a personal day and drive to Santa Barbara to shop and act touristy even if they’ve been there more than a dozen times. Joe and Webster take up video chatting on the rare occasion that they both have the night off. It’s difficult sometimes but they make it work.

And when Webster comes into the bakery, nearly eight months later and orders a medium roast coffee with two spoonfuls of sugar and a dollop of caramel creamer, Joe grabs him by the lapels of his jacket and kisses him across the counter.

 

 

 

 


End file.
